Behind the Something
by Pandora7
Summary: A little insight into the words and actions of The Man in the Morgue. Extended oneshot.
1. Brennan

**Title: **Behind "Something"

**Summary:** Post-ep, or shall we say, During-ep for "Man in the Morgue." Just a little insight as to what was going on. And a little, sentence-long, carry-on as to what we all know, SHOULD have happened at the end of the episode. You know... cheesy stuff fit for chick flicks.

**Spoilers:** Man in the Morgue.

**Rating:** Umm…G? Yeah, G, or K…or whatever.

**Pairing:** Who're we kidding here…B/B, hands down.

**A/N: **Nothing special really. Just a little ditty that I've been turning over. Oneshot.

She didn't know why she'd called him, she just did. She could have called Angela. But she'd called him, and only a little part of her was regretting it. She didn't regret hearing his voice calming her down and comforting her. She didn't regret hearing him concerned; hearing him repeat her name, at first forceful, wanting, begging her to answer him when he'd seen her name on his caller ID, then soft and anxious when he'd heard the pain and confusion in her words as she'd answered him. If pressed, she'd say that she didn't regret his determination as she'd told him again and again not to come down to her and his, "Fine, I won't," that told her that he would anyway. She would have smiled if she hadn't have hurt so badly. But there was just a little something in her that regretted it. The little part of her that didn't want to face what she knew she'd have to face sooner or later.

She felt only a little embarrassed when he'd barged into the exam room like that. She tried to ignore the little skip that her heart did as she sighed out, "Booth, I told you not to come." But a little part of her had been grinning broadly, relieved that he hadn't listen to her.

She barely even heard the detective's teasing as she studied him. She'd barely heard because all she could hear was his voice, the slight panic that laced through his words. She'd barely heard because all she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears as her heart had pounded. But then, she shut her feelings down, like all the other times, and had tried to focus on the here and now of what was happening to her.

When his finger came up to her chin to turn her head to look at him, she let her feelings try to fight through, for just a second. She let her eyes flutter shut as he gently caressed her bruise that decorated her cheek, trying not to wince in pain. But only for a second did she relish what he was doing because her eyes had snapped open when the little voice that sounded so much like Angela had made itself known in her mind, telling her that she wished Booth would caress her cheek when it wasn't bruised, when other things could follow. And then, because she didn't know what else to do, she pushed his hand away from her face and ordered both him and the doctor out of the small room so that she could put her clothes back on and try to reclaim her brain for herself.

She was scared at Graham's house, but she'd never admit that. She was scared because a part of her had known what had happened there. She wanted to cry when she saw Graham's body the way it was, but she knew that she couldn't let the tears flow. This was her job calling to her now and she needed to work. She didn't know why Booth was been so insistent on leaving, the way his hands kept finding her body, trying to lead her away, but she wanted to leave. She felt Booth bend down she stepped forward to look at what the detective was looking at, and she wondered why, but only briefly. And, though she didn't want to seem like she was running from somewhere she might be needed, she would freely admit, should anyone ask, that she was glad when Booth's fingertips once again grazed against her arm and led her away.

She was exhausted when he took her back to her hotel, but she was more than glad that he insisted on staying. She heard him say clearly that he'd bet his professional career on her innocence, but she almost missed his words, "I already did," when his voice dropped and he turned away from her.

Her head snapped back in his direction as she barked out a harsh, "What?" Harsher than she'd planned, but she wanted to know what he'd meant. She was slightly taken aback by his just as harsh, "Nothing," but she pressed harder demanding from him, "What did you do?"

But he didn't answer. And somehow she knew that he wouldn't. Before she'd even asked she knew she would have to find out what he'd meant on her own.

Then, at the restaurant, she let her feelings break through completely, if only just for a minute or two. They broke through without her permission, but she didn't really try to hide them this time. She smiled as she tasted his words, turning them over and over, savoring. "You're a surprising woman. Sometimes that's enough for getting away." She didn't ignore the skip in her heart this time.

_Why do you love me?_ "Why are you nice to me?" She listened to his response with half her brain while the other half did a poorly improvised victory dance. She analyzed the hidden meaning in his words in a way that could have written a master's thesis on the subject. "I couldn't do that without you, Booth." She saw the flash in his eyes as she said those words, but it was a flash of something her analysis couldn't quite define.

"Yeah, so maybe you should be a little nicer to me." His voice was teasing, but he seemed to be begging her for something. _Maybe you should let yourself feel a little more. I know it's in you._

"Yeah…I should." She was saddened by the fact that she wasn't already. She was saddened even more that she constantly wanted to shy away from this type of conversation. She nearly jumped out of her skin when her lawyer's voice broke interrupted the two of them.

Her eyes burned holes in his soul as she stared at him, letting her feelings have reign for just a few more minutes. She was flattered and amazed at his devotion to her as he said again and again to anyone who would listen that she didn't do it. She wondered why she didn't let herself feel more often.

Then she'd turned her attention back to the conversation at hand and let her brain take back over.

But back at the lab, as she sat with her "people," comforted by their company, she felt the creeping sense as her emotion snuck its way back into her thought processes. It seemed to be guided by Booth's presence, his eyes probing hers, his smug grin begging her to come out of her shell, the indescribable expression he carried as he let the single earring dangle from his fingers.

She asked him where he'd gotten it. Her brain seemed to be overloading, trying to analyze possible places where he could've found it. It wasn't the one she already had, that was in her pocket. It wasn't a new one; no one could make one of those unless they had enough money growing on trees to get one custom made. Those earrings were one of a kind. It wasn't—her brain quit right then and there. Unless you count the memory it pushed at her just before it shut down: Booth's quiet words of, "I'd bet my professional career on it. I already did."

She stared at the jewelry now resting in her hand and had murmured, "My mother's earring." Then she'd looked up to see him leaving and her heart ached. He'd removed evidence from a crime scene. Evidence that could have put her behind bars forever. She was overwhelmed by an emotion that she couldn't readily recognize. She was drowning at the meaning of such a gesture.

"No, ah…magical power over your future," he'd said as he'd given her that grin while walking out of the room.

_YES! Yes, it does have powers over my future. Come back!_ Every part of her screamed out to him. Except her voice.

Angela seemed to sense something. She saw the feelings that contorted her friend's face and knew there was something behind this earring. Something deeper that even she couldn't begin to define, no matter how many _Cosmo_ magazines she read or movies she watched; no matter how big her life was. "Does that prove something?" she asked her friend, probing for answers as to what was happening before her eyes.

"Yeah…" her friend had replied, softly, gently, her eyes studying the dangling earring in her fingers, her mind somewhere far away. "It proves something."

Even Jack didn't miss the smile that crept onto her face and not even Zach had the heart to call out to her as she jumped out of her chair and bolted for the hallway. After Booth, after "something." Angela just shook her head and smiled.

**Fin.**


	2. Booth

**Summary:** Companion chapter to "Behind the Something." Booth's deal this time. Extended oneshot.

**Disclaimer:** The show, the characters, the general idea, the dialogue (taken from the show), and anything else that might fall in a category like that are not mine. Never was; never will be.

**A/N:** Thank you to all who reviewed the other part of this one shot. Or two shot. Or whatever. Anyway, it was suggested that I do a companion piece to that first part only from Booth's point of view. I was intrigued, my muse was very agreeable, and this is what came out.

He laughed at her when she told him where she was going for a "vacation." He was laughing more at her idea of a vacation than the location or what she'd be doing. He stopped when he saw the look of death, the one that she should have patented, being sent his way. But he found it amusing nonetheless. Slightly endearing, too. What kind of woman would go to a disaster-torn part of the country to help identify bodies that were being pulled from debris and mud for a vacation? _That's my girl._

He was a little surprised when her name and number appeared on his caller ID. He winced a little to himself when he realized how desperate he sounded when he answered. He knew something was wrong on the first word that came out of her mouth. He would have sworn to anyone who would have asked that his heart stopped beating when she told him of the way she'd found herself. His comforting words were as much for himself as for her. He probed for answers, but she didn't have any for him and that scared him. She always had answers, regardless of whether or not he listened to them. She told him repeatedly not to come and he told her he wouldn't, but he knew that she knew he was coming anyway. He was already haphazardly throwing clothes into a duffle.

The plane ride was torture. Real torture. And he would know. Psychological torture was the worst kind, and that's what it was. His brain was being assaulted with situations that could have gotten her to the state she was in, each one worse than the one before it until he thought he was going to burst.

He didn't listen to the nurse yelling at him not to go in the exam room; he just burst through. He barely even heard her sigh, "Booth, I told you not to come," as his eyes fell on her. He gave a witty, "Yeah, whatever," to the curly-haired woman in the room teasing him for flying in from D.C. He focused all of his attention on his partner, bruised and battered. "Why can't she remember anything?" He just didn't understand. This was Temperance Brennan for heaven's sake.

He didn't really even think about what he was doing as his fingers went to her face. He saw the way her eyes fluttered shut at his careful caress, the way her face softened for just a second before trying to hide a wince at the pain his touch caused. His heart stopped momentarily again. It did that too often when he was with her.

Then she pushed his hand away and told him to go away. He wasn't too put off though, because she told everyone to go away, not just him. And anyway, her eyes told him to wait for her. _I will. Forever if that's what it takes._

At Graham's house, he tried to cover his nervousness with a joke. It was a half-assed attempt, but he tried anyway. He just couldn't escape the nasty feeling that was eating at him. When she'd gone up the stairs like that, in a trance almost, all he wanted to do was grab her and run away. Far away from all this strange stuff. Voodoo, hurricanes, dead people. But he followed her, because that's what he always did.

No matter what he had done while he was a sniper, no matter how many crime scenes he'd seen, no matter how many forensic textbooks he'd looked at…no matter anything, the body crucified to the wall made him want to throw up. He didn't blame her for getting amnesia and he didn't even know what exactly she'd gone through. He wanted amnesia after seeing a scene like that.

But nothing could prepare him for the yet again heart stopping second he saw her earring on the floor. _God, please. No, she couldn't have done it._ He began to frantically think of any way he could get the detective's attention somewhere else long enough that he could get to the earring before anyone else did. If they found that, she would be locked up forever, he had no doubt.

He seized his moment as everyone's attention went to whatever the detective was looking at and her earring was in his pocket before anyone else could see what he had done. He tried to breathe. In. Out. He reached his hands out to her and tried to drag her away. He wanted nothing more than to shove the detective against the wall with a gun to her ear until she understood that _his_ Bones could never do a thing like what they'd just seen in that room.

He managed to contain himself, but only barely. His hands grasped again at his partner's thin arms as he led them away. She didn't even protest.

Back at her hotel, he insisted on staying. He needed to be with her just a while longer. In her room, looking out her window, the full weight of what he'd done hit him hard. He didn't want her to know. He wondered what she'd think.

"I already did." Just three words he hoped and prayed she might understand someday. He'd risked his professional career for her. Only for her. She asked what he meant, but he needed her to figure it out for herself so he changed the subject.

At the restaurant, he saw her break through. The real her. And it made him smile. It made the food he was eating that much better. It made her presence that much more comforting. It made the reality of what they were going through that much farther away. If only for a minute. He knew what she was really asking when she'd said, "Why are you nice to me?" But he followed her lead and hid his message underneath different words. His eyes held hers, begging her to see what he meant. His heart did a little flutter when her reply met his ears and he wanted her more than ever. "Yeah…so maybe you should be a little nicer to me." _Let this Temperance out a little more often. I know you have it in you. _She seemed to understand what he was saying. She seemed saddened. He saw her nearly jump when Caroline Julian's voice broke through whatever was happening between them in that moment and he mentally cursed the jovial woman just a little for shutting her down again when he'd been so close. He felt her eyes on him for one last minute before let herself fall back into her shell.

But back home, sitting with these people he was learning to call friends, he drew her out again. It was harder this time, but he didn't give up. And just as he felt he had her, he opened his hand and let her mother's earring dangle from his fingers. She asked him where he'd gotten it and he watched her running through her mind, searching hard for anything in it that might clue her in on his conjuring powers. He gave her one more prod. "What does it matter? It's just a thing, right?" _Almost. You're almost there._

He stood up as soon as he saw the recognition work itself into her eyes. "No, ah…magical powers over your future." He gave her his grin, the one he knew he should have patented, as he left. _Follow me. I dare you._

He heard Angela ask her, "Does that prove something?" But he didn't hear her reply; she answered too quietly for him to hear as he walked slowly down the hall. He did hear her footsteps nearly running after him just a minute later, though. He slowed to a stop, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and grinned like a little boy who'd just been given the Christmas present he'd always wanted.

**Fin. (For real this time.)**


End file.
